There’d been no time for her to answer, however, as a figure appeared at the door, tapping gently on the glass to get their attention.
‘Monty! You came back!’ Radia sang as her mum let him inside.
‘I did promise you a sail onPeter’s Bounty,’ he announced, while Joy mentally compared him to his brother, who she could see – now that Monty was standing pretty close – was probably a bit more tanned and windblown, while there was an appealing liveliness in Monty’s brown eyes and around his full lips that she felt sure distinguished the twins further.
‘I have to work the evening service at the Siren tonight but Finan’s agreed to do the clean down so I can leave at eight, and I thought, if it’s not too late for Radia’s bedtime, why not tonight? A sunset sail kind of thing?’
Radia stared up at her mum. ‘Yes, Mummy, why not tonight?’
Joy hadn’t even tried to protest, knowing it would be futile.
As Monty backed away out the door, smiling and bringing his hands together in an awkward kind of way, he’d told them to dress for the sea chill. Then he’d stumbled as he waved to them across the cobbled square while Joy and Radia watched him go from the shop steps.
Joy had to remind herself how much it had shaken her to see Tom kissing Lou, mistakenly thinking she was watching Monty. Not a nice feeling.
It had been enough to scare her and to remind her not to get involved with the Clove Lore community any more than she had to. But with the summer sun wrapping itself in Monty’s brown curls and with his shirtsleeves rolled up the way they were, Joy couldn’t deny the reckless appeal of an evening spent with him at twilight on the sea.
Chapter Sixteen
That afternoon’s shift in the Siren’s stuffy kitchens had passed excruciatingly slowly, to the extent that Monty had set an alarm on his phone to mark the passing of each half hour, just to prove that time hadn’t stopped entirely.
As the last dishes went out – two well-done steaks and a veggie lasagne – Monty stripped off his apron and made for the bar.
‘That’s me done,’ he told Bella, who was working the beer taps.
‘Finan? That’s Monty leaving for the night,’ the landlady called across the room to where her husband was setting the plates down in front of diners.
The Siren’s rooms were all booked out to holidaymakers, most of whom had already eaten and were now strolling along the beach or sitting on the benches outside enjoying summer cocktails and IPAs. Holiday season was showing no signs of slowing down yet.
The locals were in tonight too. Jowan and Minty were in their usual spot by the bar with Aldous sleeping at their feet. Minty was glued to an iPad, watching celebrity weddings and grumbling loudly about floating candle lanterns being ‘the scourge of the countryside’, while Jowan listened placidly.
At a booth in the far corner, Mrs Crocombe was laughing along with the captain of theLucky Boy, who refilled her champagne glass with the dreamy look of a besotted man.
She wasn’t so distracted by James da Costa not to have noticed Bovis watching them through narrowed eyes from across the room, his orange juice untouched, and she definitely wasn’t so preoccupied by her dinner companion to miss the fact that young Monty was knocking off early and Finan was telling him to take a bottle of Cava from the fridge if he liked.
She was soon on her feet and making her way over to the bar, where Bella was trying to signal to Monty to get out quickly.
‘Too late,’ Bella whispered to her chef as she sailed past him to fetch a picnic basket from the storeroom.
Mrs Crocombe squeezed between the drinkers at the bar to inquire of Monty, ‘Going out, are we?’
‘Only an evening’s fishing,’ he replied.
‘With bubbly?’
‘Um, well…’
‘You’re not going with Tom and Lou. I saw them leaving for the cinema at four-ish.’
Monty gave an amused, exasperated laugh. ‘It’s Miss Foley and her daughter from the bookshop. I promised I’d take the little girl fishing. I was being welcoming.’
‘Ah-hah.’ Her voice chimed like a bell. She called through the open door to Bella. ‘Pop a big tub of my clotted cream with strawberry in a cool bag for them too, and add it to my bill, won’t you?’
Monty protested. ‘Mrs C., you don’t have to…’
‘For the little one. She likes my ice cream.’
‘Of course, thanks. That’s nice of you.’
